Finally I reconnect to the interswirp. It feels grand, altogether. Initially this whole not connected thing was a very big thing until i settled into it’s itship. Then, on all those mornings of dark and silence and no connection to the ferocious and destructive and illusionary twufful of that connectivity I heard the owls, tawny, saw their flight, heard their focus on prey. I heard the burn in spate, the rush over stones, the power of down water, the reflect of mountain springs deep down, always there. I heard the first blackbird, the feisty robin. I heard gravel sqinch at the first early lefting for work beyond Tapselteerie. I noticed a tap drip. I heard the squink of a sudden. And when I was amidships in all of that, I remembered my bear. I had him for so long, through school and well beyond. He was there along the Tapselteerie story until he wasn’t. He meant so much to me. He was bare of fur, naked bear but so precious.

I was always, always, ok, more than, about breakages. There were plenty in our life. But I do remember My Bear, when a pup, I forget which, tore him apart. I remember the moment in the Tapselteerie kitchen, the stuffing all out and about, the wee dog with no clue what he/she had done. It thinks me.

I forget many things, many many things, but I remember my Bear.